


Proper Care

by toesohnoes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock fails to keep a proper eye on his sidekick. Moriarty can hardly let such an opportunity pass him by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written at my [Tumblr](http://toestastegood-fic.tumblr.com/post/18560887566/john-follows-sherlock-this-is-an-eternal-fact).

John follows Sherlock.

This is an eternal fact.

Sherlock has become so used to John’s presence that he filters him out; he expects him to be there, just as he expects his heart to beat. He doesn’t listen to his heartbeat at every moment of the day because there is no use in monitoring a constant. His attention is better spent elsewhere.

John will always be there.

Until he isn’t.

Sherlock frowns when he glances to the side mid-sentence and realises that John isn’t there. He holds his tongue. Speaking to a John that isn’t there is becoming a frustratingly common occurance. He needs to make a rule about John leaving; it interrupts his thought process when he notices his absence.

He looks around the square to see if he can locate where John might have slipped off to, but there is no sight of him. They don’t need any groceries in the flat (despite what John thinks Sherlock is indeed capable of noticing such things) and it is therefore unlikely that he’s gone to the shops.

It’s a weekend. He isn’t working.

Sherlock turns a full circle and isn’t able to see John anywhere.

The first cold tendrils of concern wind through his chest.

He reaches for his phone. _Where are you? - SH_

Waiting for a reply, he keeps his phone in hand and checks it several times in the space of a single minute.

_Are you sulking? - SH_

Such accusations are usually enough to bring John roaring out of his silence.

_Is this about the missing step? - SH_

John can be so fussy about the particulars of their living arrangements. Sherlock generally tunes him out when he’s complaining, but in the back of his mind he registers what John says. He just doesn’t care too much about it.

Now he’s starting to care.

There’s still no reply.

He leaves the square reluctantly and hails a taxi cab in order to head straight for Baker Street. On the way home, he tells himself that he’s going to replace the step that he had removed from the stairs to their apartment so that John no longer has a reason to be cross with him. He’ll even make tea.

But John isn’t in the apartment.

Sherlock stalks from room to room, his limbs restless, his fingers twitching, as the day turns to evening and John still hasn’t turned up.

By the time the sun has truly set, Sherlock’s heart sinks in it. On the coffee table, his phone beeps.

_You shouldn’t let your pets wander off. Who knows what could happen to them? - JM_

In his rush to set things right, Sherlock’s fingers stumble on the keys.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written at my [Tumblr](http://toestastegood-fic.tumblr.com/post/20417379756/do-you-ever-look-down-from-the-top-of-a-tall).

“Do you ever look down from the top of a tall building and feel the urge to jump?” Moriarty asks, standing right next to the ceiling-to-floor pane of glass that holds them inside the skyscraper. John doesn’t answer him. He watches as Moriarty’s nails stroke against the window. “Do you think about what falling would feel like?” Moriarty looks over his shoulder at him. “You can speak. I’d like an answer.”

John swallows. “No,” he says. “I don’t look down.”

Moriarty smiles as if he has presented him with a puzzle. “But you’re not scared of heights, that’s not it, no - you’re as courageous as they come. That’s why he picked you, John, out of everyone.” He peels away from the window and winds his way through the room towards John. John steadies his feet on the ground, hiding in a soldier’s stance, but it doesn’t work. He would almost rather be back in scorching Afghanistan than to be here, facing down a madman.

“Only the best and the bravest for little Sherlock,” Moriarty murmurs. “You’re like a pedigree puppy. What do you think is going to happen when he gets bored with you? Will he throw you out at the side of the road?”

John focuses on the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and the beating of his heart. He isn’t listening. Moriarty can scoop him off of the street and take him to his sky-high fortress, but he can’t make John’s mind stay here.

“You’re no fun when you’re ignoring me,” Moriarty says. He wanders towards his desk instead of keeping his attention on John. If it wasn’t for the silent, trained killer in the corner of the room, John might have thought about tackling him and trying to fight for his freedom. The gun aimed at his head is enough to stop him from doing anything foolish. “But this isn’t about you. It was never about you.”

Moriarty breaks away from his thoughts when the phone stored in the pocket of his expensive suit buzzes. He pulls it from his pocket and reads the text, a smile of glee worming onto his face. “He’s finally noticed you’re gone. Took him a while, didn’t it?”

John can feel his heart beginning to race, faster and faster, but he tries not to allow his nerves to show. He has to be ready. If Sherlock is coming, that means that things are about to get ugly.

“Isn’t this so exciting?” Moriarty asks, without looking up from his phone as he texts Sherlock back. “I’ve been saying it for a while. I owe Sherlock a fall. And there’s nowhere better for that than here.”

The building that they are in soars high above the world below. It’s a long, long way to fall.


End file.
